


Too Young

by unn_known



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Drama, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unn_known/pseuds/unn_known
Summary: At seven, Fiona Walsh and her family left Ireland. She left behind her best friend. Thankfully—through planning and international flights—she and Niall Horan still maintained their friendship. He spent summers in Boston, she spent Christmases in Ireland. It’s good enough for them until her family moves again.But when Great-Uncle Finn dies, Fiona finds herself in Boston once more for the wake. With her fiance at her side, she knows she can make it through then leave the city behind. Boston is not home anymore.She never imagined the Horans would show up. She never thought she would see Niall’s face again.Everything she’s thought about her life is turned upside down, and Fiona is left to make the most important decision she could ever make.
Relationships: Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Too Young

The infants slept on, unaware of the four adults standing over the cot. The women cooed over the babies, the matching pyjamas and chubby cheeks, while the fathers shared a bottle of whisky in celebration. It wasn’t often that two mothers—friends close as sisters since they met four years ago—gave birth within three days of each other. But Maura and Ginevra had.

Now Fiona Roisin Walsh and Niall James Horan would continue the friendship.

The toddlers waddled around the garden, feet sinking into wet soil as the sky let go. Their mothers sat in their chairs out of the rain. Niall squealed as he yanked a tulip from the ground and toddled toward Fiona as quickly as he could. She stared at it, and Maura laughed, nudging Ginevra.

“She looks so much like you right now.”

Ginevra rolled her eyes. “That’s all her father.”

But even Ginevra had to admit the scowl on her child’s face was like looking in a mirror.

The seven-year-olds cried as Colin and Bobby carried the last boxes out of the house. Fiona didn’t want to leave. Ireland was her home. _Niall_ was her home. Everywhere he was, she was close by his side. They had even thrown tantrums until they were placed in the same classroom at school.

It was never just Fiona and just Niall. It had always been Fiona-and-Niall. Best friends like their parents.

Fiona sniffled and clung to Niall's hand tightly. “I don’t want to go.”

“Can’t you just stay with us? Then you won’t have to leave Ireland!”

Such a childish thought, but Fiona had never heard a better plan. So she waited until their parents were busy with their own goodbyes to drag Niall toward his house next door. She crawled under his bed first, and he followed close behind. They cried as quietly as they could, then Fiona broke the silence.

“This isn’t fair,” she sobbed. “Ma and Da didn’t even ask if I wanted to go.”

“I hate them.”

Fiona buried her face in her arms, another round of tears bursting free. Niall wiggled closer until his thin arm could wrap over her back, and she absorbed his warmth—the familiarity of his friendship. Her tummy hurt in a way she’d never felt before. She couldn’t breathe through the tears. Her chest felt like when she messed up tying her laces, all knotted and a mess.

“Fiona, darling, we have to go.”

“Fiona isn’t here,” she muttered with her voice shaking too much.

Her mother lowered herself onto her knees. Her blue eyes were shining, and her lips trembled. “We can’t stay here, or we’ll miss our flight.”

“I don’t wanna go, why do I have to go? Can’t I stay with Niall?”

“Oh, no, honey.”

“I hate you.”

But Fiona crawled out from under the bed. One last hug with Niall, then Ginevra was leading Fiona out of the house she spent as much of her childhood in as she did her own home.

Watching the Horans disappear from view hurt Fiona more than she could explain.

Ten-year-old Fiona sipped at her orange juice as she sat across the table from ten-year-old Niall. The Boston heat was sweltering, thick with humidity, so neither of them wanted to go outside. Aoife set another platter of waffles on the table, kissing the children’s heads before heading to the kitchen again. Niall’s brows twitched, then a chunk of waffle hit Fiona’s forehead.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You never told me what you want to do today.”

“Can’t we just play video games?”

Niall rolled his eyes and shook his head. “We did that _yesterday_.”

“No, we spent all day at Sunday Mass yesterday.”

“Okay, then we played video games the day before.”

“It’s too hot to do anything.”

“You both will play outside today,” Aoife interjected as she entered the dining room. “You’ve stayed indoors long enough. Do you really want to spend Niall’s time here without seeing the sun?”

“Aw, Aunt Aoife,” whined Fiona, but Aoife didn’t relent. So Fiona finished her breakfast, stomped to the bathroom to brush her teeth, then stomped to the room Niall slept in during his summertime visits.

Despite her petulance, Fiona didn’t exactly hate the idea of running around the neighbourhood with him. The other kids usually let the two of them play games with them, even if they were reluctant about Fiona’s participation. Her girl-ness was evidently a point against her. But she kept up with the best of them.

Summer was Fiona’s favourite season. Not only was all the snow and cold rain gone, but Niall came from Ireland. She got to see her best friend for seven weeks every year, then another two at the holidays. The distance hadn’t torn them apart like she’d feared when she was seven and watching her home fade from sight behind her.

Ginevra frowned when Fiona finally slumped through the front door later that evening. “You will never learn to be a lady if you insist on getting so dirty.”

“I don’t wanna be a lady, Ma. I just wanna be me. Fiona.”

“Go clean up, sweetheart. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Fiona made sure her mother’s back was turned before she rolled her eyes. They’d had this conversation dozens of times over the years, growing in frequency the older Fiona got. That was why she preferred to spend her days with Niall and his aunt. They didn’t expect her to be anything other than who she was. Fiona Roisin Walsh, the ten-year-old girl who came over in the mornings for breakfast and got just as sweaty as the rest of the boys.

Niall left at the end of the summer, and Fiona resigned herself to another ten months without seeing him. And being forced to be a ‘lady’ like her mother wanted.

Fifteen-year-old Fiona sat by the front window, waiting for that familiar face with those familiar blue eyes to appear. Hours passed, but still Niall didn’t show. Her stomach dropped as night fell. Her mother was still at work—she’d been working later and later since the new quarter started—but Da was in the kitchen cooking dinner. Fiona ambled up behind him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Da?”

“Yeah, mo stoirín?”

Fiona loved when her da called her his treasure. She loved that he encouraged her connection to her Irish roots. The fact that his accent was just as strong as it was when they still lived in Ireland only reminded her of what she lost when they moved.

“Mind if I run to Aunt Aoife’s? Just for a few minutes?”

He frowned and stirred the pasta. Setting aside the spoon, he turned to Fiona. “It’s too dark for you to walk alone.”

“Then can you take me?”

“Why’s it so important?”

“Because…” Fiona fidgeted before deciding to be honest. “Niall hasn’t showed up. He _always_ comes over by lunch.”

“Maybe he’s jet-lagged.”

“You know he doesn’t let that get in the way. He comes here, crashes on the couch for a while, then goes to Aunt Aoife’s.”

Colin hesitated then nodded. “Let’s eat first. We’ll go right after.”

“Thanks, Da.”

“You practising your Irish?”

“Only to curse out the boys who annoy me,” Fiona called over her shoulder just to hear her father laugh.

Aoife’s expression turned pained when she opened the door at the timid knock. Colin squeezed his daughter’s shoulder gently, and Fiona swallowed harshly. She didn’t need Aoife to say a word. She didn’t want to hear the truth. She asked anyway.

“He didn’t come, did he?”

“No, lovey, he didn’t.”

Fiona nodded slowly and turned on her heel, headed back to the car. She could hear her father apologising to Aoife, but all she felt was a numb cold spreading through her chest. Niall hadn’t told her he wasn’t coming this summer. Her mind struggled to comprehend that he kept something from her. Especially something like this.

They had spent every summer together since they were eight years old, the summer after Fiona was forced to leave Ireland behind. And now he wasn’t here in Boston. He’d changed the plans without warning.

She tried to pretend she was fine. That this wasn’t affecting her. Her father knew her too well. His hand held hers as he drove and she cried silent tears, and he let her go to bed when they got home.

It was two days later that she sent an email.

> **< <** You didn’t come. Why?  
>  **> >** Im still coming just a bit later.

Fiona snorted and shut down her computer.

True to Niall’s word, he arrived the next week. She ached to be mad at him, to tell him how much he hurt her by not warning her. But he grinned that grin, and all of her anger melted. Their time together was only broken by the hours she spent with her new boyfriend. Despite the fact he never gave her butterflies, Levi was nice. She knew there was something different between him and Niall, but still she thought she could Levi with time.

She was too young for love. She was too young for the love she gave him.

Fiona learnt the following January that she should have spent more time with Niall instead of Levi.

At eighteen, Fiona stood on the stage with her classmates in the sweltering Phoenix heat, listening for her name to echo over the sea of faces. Fiona Roy-sin Walsh. _How hard is it to pronounce Roisin? Rosh-een_. But she plastered a smile on her face, one that said she was proud of this accomplishment, and crossed to the principal. Diploma in hand, tassel moved to the left, hand shook, then she was back in her seat.

She could hear the thick accent of her father and Aoife, the delicate American of her mother. Her own was a muddled version of both. She wished she could have heard Niall’s voice amongst the cheers. He would have whistled sharply, shouting her name as loudly as he possibly could, if only to see her cheeks burning. To let the world know how proud he was of his best friend, the girl he shared everything with until they were too old for bathing together.

But he wasn’t in the crowd. She hadn’t seen him since they were fifteen, when her mother got promoted to senior management consultant and the family had to move to the perpetual summer of Arizona. That Christmas had been the last one she’d attended in Ireland, and she regretted not going after that.

The years passed. A few phone calls—the costs of which sent their mothers into fluttering messes—and a dozen emails. A handwritten letter on her twentieth birthday, and one on his three days later. Conversation faded with time, and Fiona moved on.

Now here she is, twenty-six and engaged to the most wonderful man she could never love. Not like her mother desperately wishes. Phil is sweet and kind, a high-riser in his family’s corporation. He makes her happy, but not the way Fiona wants. Phil holds her hand as she stands between him and her father. Rain patters down around them, rustling the leaves and stinging her cheeks. Maybe if she blinks multiple times, people will think she’s shedding tears.

Great-Uncle Finn wasn’t exactly Fiona’s favourite person. He smoked too much, he judged people for the smallest transgressions, and he certainly had no love lost for outspoken Fiona who refused to sit demurely and be ignored. But her father’s uncle was family, and family is there for family. No matter if they’re racist old assholes who should have learnt to shut their mouths.

The soft rustling of footsteps in grass comes nearer. Fiona looks up through her lashes to see the faces she hasn’t seen in so long. Bobby nods succinctly then stands with his hands clasped together, head bowed. Maura stands to his left.

Fiona almost doesn’t recognise her best friend. His jaw is sharper, face less round. His coat can’t hide the way he’s filled out, muscles where they never were before. But his eyes are too familiar for her to ever forget. His gaze flits from her face to the man on her right. Fiona hates the way Niall’s brows furrow before smoothing out.

Her father squeezes her hand, and she ducks her head as the priest finishes the rites. A bitter wind whips through the cemetery, biting through her wool coat. The sky rolls with lead as the rain falls harder. Faster. As if it’s ushering the mourners from where Great-Uncle Finn’s casket lowers into the frozen earth.

Fiona murmurs a goodbye with the rest of her family, Irish and English mixing in the icy air, then turns toward the line of cars by the gate. Phil’s hand rests on her lower back, helping her into the backseat of the rental. The drive to the Lucky Green is quiet, and Fiona watches the world pass by.

The pub quickly fills with family members, and Uncle James flips the sign on the door to say Closed. His son Nolan immediately heads behind the bar, grabbing up bottles of whisky and scotch. A line forms. Fiona stands close to Phil as they shuffle their way along. Her stomach tightens when the Horans step through the door.

“That him?” Phil whispers, lips brushing against her ear.

“Yeah.”

He rests his hand on her shoulder, and she leans into the touch. She may not love him. She may never love him. That doesn’t change the fact he’s one of the best men she’s ever met. Phil is almost as amazing as her father.

“Do you want to go talk to him?”

“Not yet.” She doesn’t say the reason—she isn’t ready. What can she possibly say to Niall? If she opens her mouth, she might let loose all the loneliness she’s felt. “I’ll talk to him later.”

Unfortunately, Maura doesn’t stick to Fiona’s plan. The woman wraps her arms around Fiona, squeezing tightly, and Phil gracefully takes the glass of whisky from Fiona. Maura smells the same as she always does. Her embrace is the same—the same warmth, the same strength, the same second-mother feeling.

“We’ve missed you, pet.”

“Missed you, too, Ma. You look amazing.”

“You flatter me. Now who is this strapping young lad with you?”

“Oh.” Fiona swallows thickly and meets Phil’s eye. “This is Phil Allen, my fiance.”

“Fiance? Oh, darling, that’s wonderful. Hello, I'm Maura.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Phil grins brightly, such a charming smile, and shakes Maria’s hand. “Fiona here has told me so much about your family.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same.”

Maura appraises Fiona with a sharp look, but Ginevra’s voice interrupts the trio from further conversation.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Phillip. Isn’t he lovely? It’s such a shame Finn couldn’t be here to see the wedding.”

As if Fiona would have invited her great-uncle. She would have, actually, but only so her mother didn’t cause a scene. From the corner of her eye, she catches the way Niall flinches when her mother says the wedding is in April. The end of the first quarter, before they announce the company merger. Fiona finds herself, not for the first time, wishing she had refused like the stubborn child she used to be.

“Let’s go sit,” Phil murmurs in her ear, and Fiona nods and makes a clumsy exit from the mothers.

Thankfully, her friends saved the largest booth in the corner. Fiona grabs a bottle of whisky from the bar, laughing when Nolan swats at her hand, and weaves through her family members until she reaches the booth. She plunks the bottle down and leans over to brush a kiss to Jessie’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, love. Ma didn’t notice you and Phil earlier.”

Jessie smiles as she shifts over so Phil can sit beside her. Their fingers immediately intertwine under the table—safe from prying eyes who definitely won’t understand. Fiona turns to Brent and Maya, asking how Tuscany treated them.

“Congratulations to the happy couple.”

Maya’s mouth shuts with a clack of her teeth, gaze flicking to the man behind Fiona. The voice is far too familiar—achingly so—and a heavy weight settles in her chest. She can’t fight the smile as she turns.

“Well, well, the devil has brought Niall Horan back.”

Niall laughs and pulls her in for a tight hug. “It’s good to see you again, Fee.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m amazing. You don’t have to tell me. Spoken to my parents yet?”

“Of course. Your ma was quick to tell me how thin I’ve gotten but, according to her, I’m still quite the heartbreaker.”

“Don’t get a huge ego, Horan. She says it to all the guys.” She turns back to her friends. “Everyone, this is my childhood best friend, Niall. Ni, this is Maya, Brent, Jodie, Alex, Jess, and Phil.”

“Nice to meet you. Gosh, your eyes are so blue.”

Brent rolls his eyes and pokes his girlfriend’s cheek. “Uh, hello, boyfriend right here. Do you have to flirt with every man who has an accent?”

“Only if they have eyes like that,” Maya replies breezily with a shrug.

“If you’ll excuse me,” giggles Fiona, “I think I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Fiona doesn’t miss the wink that Phil gives her. A pleasant warmth blooms in her chest, and she accepts the permission it is. She swipes another bottle of liquor from the bar while Nolan’s back is turned then leads Niall to the back door. No one seems to notice their disappearance.

“Won’t your future groom have a problem with this?” he asks quietly as she pushes the door open.

Fiona snorts. “Absolutely not. He knows you’ve always been important to me. Besides, it isn’t what you think.”

She lowers herself to sit on a small stack of wine crates, setting the whisky at her feet, and tugs her coat tight around her. Niall takes a seat beside her. Fiona hates that she can no longer read his expressions. He twists the cap off the bottle.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he mutters before taking a long pull. A wince crosses his face, and he hands the whisky to her. “Just wanna know you’re happy, that’s all.”

“Would be happier if my best mate hadn’t off and left me hanging.”

Her joke lightens the atmosphere. Niall grins, shaking his head. “Life got crazy. What can I say?”

“So tell me.”

So he does. He talks about life back in Ireland, the friends he’s made and lost over the years, the trouble they have gotten into. Tears burn in her eyes, and she stares toward the other end of the alley. She can’t believe she has missed out on so much with him. They spent seven years together, side-by-side, getting into trouble. Even during the following years, they were still thicker than thieves for the summer.

Now they’re basically strangers.

“Tell me, Miss Fiona, what have _you_ been up to besides being engaged?”

“Niall, it isn’t like that. I told you.”

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t marrying him.”

Fiona swallows a mouthful of Jack, then another. “Ma and Da want it. Makes a great press story for the companies before the merger, and it gets me a ring like Ma’s been angling for since I was five and trying to prove I was tough as all the boys.”

“And he knows you don’t actually love him?” Niall pauses and fidgets with the chain around his neck. “You don’t, do you?”

“Nah, we both know the score. I mean, we’d rather not spend the rest of our lives together, but what else can we do? Anyway, it’s not like he’s the worst person I’ve ever known.”

“Then why the fuck are you two going along with it?”

The wind swirls in the air, and the cold burns in her lungs. Or maybe it’s the anger in Niall’s voice that makes it impossible to breathe. Fiona clears her throat quietly, blowing out a breath. Her hair dances across her cheeks, tickles at the numbness there.

“Because he and I are friends, and we want to make our parents happy.”

Niall shakes his head, scoffing. “That’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard.” He nudges her with his shoulders. “You were always so stubborn, Fee. You never just rolled over and let your ma make all your decisions.”

“She means well, Niall. You know that. Phil and I have already made the appropriate plans. Be married for a few wonderfully blissful years then get a divorce. He’ll be able to date Jessie freely instead of in secret.”

“Once you’ve had a kid, right? Give them an heir to the empire.”

Fiona gapes at how ugly his words are, how harsh and unforgiving his voice is. How bitter, colder than the wind. “Why are you getting so angry? This doesn’t even involve you. This is _my_ life.”

“And you’re letting Ginevra control it. Fee, this isn’t fucking you.”

“What do you care?”

The wounded expression on his face has her wishing she could take the words back. But she can’t. She won’t. Even with the hole in her chest, the ice in her veins, she wants to know. He yanks the bottle from her hand and pointedly avoids meeting her eye.

“We’ve been best friends for our whole lives. We shared a cot together for fuck’s sake.”

“That was twenty-six years ago.”

“And our friendship ended just because we became adults?”

Fiona gulps in a breath, whispering, “What the Hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to have changed so much.”

The December wind whistles, fills the quiet between them, and her blood roars in her ears. She sniffles and wipes at her cheeks. The fact he won’t look at her only increases the pain beneath her ribs. Her throat tightens.

“I’m still me. I’m still the Fiona you’ve known since we were infants.”

“I don’t think you are,” Niall mutters, and Fiona struggles to draw in a breath.

“You’re being a right prick.”

“I’m not the one making a fucking mistake!”

Fiona rears back in surprise. He’s never raised his voice at her like this. Not even when she punched him in the face when they were thirteen because he tried kissing her. Not even when she went to Aoife’s in tears because she’d made the mistake of sleeping with Levi when it should never have been him.

“Phil is good enough.”

“No, he isn’t. You should marry for love, Fee. Not because your parents think it’ll be good for their image.”

“Let me know when you’re done making me feel awful,” she spits through gritted teeth. “I’m going back inside.”

Niall stays silent as she slips through the back door, into the warmth and loneliness. Phil is a wonderful friend—he always will be—but Fiona knows Niall is right: Phil will never be what she needs. And when they’re finished with this farce, she’ll be left alone while he lives a happy life with Jessie. And now she has lost her best friend because he couldn’t understand why she’s doing something like marrying a man she doesn’t truly love.

Fiona perches on a stool at the bar, thanking Nolan for the drink he slides in front of her. Her shoulders slump as she swallows a mouthful of the whisky. It isn’t fair, she thinks, that Niall refused to accept her decision.

He has always supported her—Hell, he’s the one who encouraged her to stand up for herself when they were children, and her mother was trying to push Fiona into being a lady. Yet even after she explained, he was disgusted. With her choice. With _her_. Ice trickles down her spine.

They have been separated by years and thousands of miles, but never has Niall felt so far from her.

A hand falls onto her shoulder, and she turns to see Phil at her side. He leans in, lips brushing against her temple, and his smile is familiar. It isn’t a part of her, though. It never will be.

“Everything okay?”

“No, but what else is new.”

“Want some company?”

“Sure Jess won’t mind?”

Phil sits beside her, pulls her into his side. “She understands we have an image to uphold. Besides, as your friend, she knows when you need a shoulder.”

Fiona opens her mouth to respond. Words won’t come. She had been honest a year ago: He will never have her whole heart, and he’d agreed that the marriage was a charade. They decided then to wait the appropriate time before filing for a divorce. Irreconcilable differences, they’ll claim.

No one can argue with that, especially after their parents got what they wanted. An extravagant wedding and a grandchild.

“Of all the money that e’er I had, I spent it in good company.”

Fiona snorts quietly at Uncle Colm’s baritone voice cutting through the low chatter. Phil’s fingers squeeze her arm as she joins in. Higher alto against deeper harmony, a haunting song for the pain of the week.

“And all the harm I’ve ever done, alas, it was to none but me.”

And how true the words ring. She aches to undo all the harm. The damages she’s inflicted on her friendship with Niall.

“And all I’ve done for want of wit. To memory, now I can’t recall.”

Forty voices echo in the otherwise silent pub, _So fill to me the parting glass. Good night and joy be to you all_. Joy doesn’t exist. This close to Christmas and Fiona has lost all enthusiasm for the holiday. It isn’t the loss of Great-Uncle Finn or the grief of her family. It’s the loss of the only friendship that has ever meant so much to her.

Fiona steals Phil’s glass and drains the whisky from it. His hand remains on her thigh, a point of contact to comfort her. She watches the clock. Round and round, tick-tock-tick. Counting the seconds since the cold overtook her heart, her veins. Eventually, Phil pulls her toward the booth. She knows why.

He knows she needs to stop watching time slipping away as easily as her relationship with Niall.

Niall comes to a stop at the table and nods a greeting to the others. Fiona stares at a spot over his shoulder. He sighs. “Can we talk?”

“I have nothing to say to you. You’ve made your position quite clear.”

“Go talk to him, honey,” murmurs Phil. “He deserves the chance to explain himself.”

“How dare you take his side? What kind of fiance are you?”

“The kind who has no romantic love for you.”

Maya snorts before clapping a hand over her mouth, whisky slipping over and through her fingers. Jodie has a bit more decorum and only giggles to herself. Alex shakes his head and sips at his soda. Fiona rolls her eyes but stands. Niall leads her through the room with a hand on her lower back.

“What do you want? Come to tell me again that I’m screwing up my life?”

Niall sighs and rests his elbows on the bar. “I don’t want you to marry him.”

Fiona scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, you don’t stop, do you.”

His hand trembles as it rests on her arm, then he’s tugging her to face him. Fiona freezes when his lips cover hers. Her chest aches with the unfamiliarity but dreams come true. Still, she freezes even while his hand curves around her throat. This isn’t like him.

Niall James Horan was awkward and clumsy with girls. Charming, sweet. But unfortunately hopeless. He was never this confident before. Fiona remembers with a start that she has no idea who he grew into. His breath ghosts across her cheek, and her eyes flutter closed. She doesn’t kiss him back, though she yearns for nothing more.

Someone gasps from behind them, louder than _Amazing Grace_ , and Fiona jerks out of Niall’s grip.

“What the fuck was that for?”

His face falls. He clenches his jaw and glances over her shoulder. With a shake of his head, he turns his gaze to the bar. “Obviously I’m the one who made a mistake. See ya ’round, Fiona.”

Niall disappears into the crowd, and Fiona watches him go. Watches the way Maura reaches for her son, frowning when he brushes her off. Watches her own mother’s face reddening at the whispers that fill the room. Fiona’s head spins with everything that’s happened tonight.

“Go after him, Fiona. I’ll deal with your parents.”

She trembles as she rises to her tiptoes to kiss Phil’s cheek. “Sorry for everything.”

“We knew it wasn’t love. Now go, before he gets away.”

Everyone’s eyes are on Fiona when she scans the pub for Niall’s face. She slithers through bodies until she reaches the restrooms; he isn’t there. Nor is he in the alley. Fiona hurries down the narrow pathway, feet skidding on ice, but there is no sign of him.

Bells ring the hour. The peals are far too merry, too bright, for the dark that’s blossomed in her chest. She has messed everything up. She accepted completely that she would marry Phil, have at least one child with him, then spend the rest of her life as a single mother working at her ma’s company. Now she isn’t so certain.

Her feet carry her to the Catholic church on the next block before her mind can catch up. Fiona stands on the front steps and stares up at the cross on the door. Niall has never been religious. Neither of them could ever stay quiet during Mass, being scolded by Father O’Malley and the sisters dozens of times before they finally stopped talking.

But he always said the solitude of a church helped him think. Clear his mind.

Fiona pushes through the door and listens to it creak closed behind her. Niall’s sat on a pew toward the middle, head bowed. Her heels click on the marble floor, and she stops at the end of the pew to cross her fingers over her chest. _Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit._

He doesn’t look up when she sits beside him, and Fiona blows out a breath. Her thoughts won’t settle. She doesn’t know what to say.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” she whispers eventually. Hesitating for a second, she reaches for his hand. “You’re right. I _have_ changed. Moving away from Boston, not having you to remind me of who I really am… I lost who I used to be, and I let Ma dictate what I should do. Marrying Phil would have been a mistake, no matter that we’re good friends.”

He shakes his head and squeezes her fingers. “I just want you to be happy, Fiona. He never would have made you happy. Truly happy. You would have been settling. You deserve better. You deserve someone who loves you with all they are.”

“And that’s you?”

“Thought you’d figured it out by now,” he mutters, lips twisting into a wry smile. “I have since I knew what the butterflies meant. I have since you were dating Levi and I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face every time I saw him that summer. I have since we were kids.”

“We were too young for love, you know that.”

“You weren’t too young for Levi.” His scoff echoes in the silence.

“I can’t change the past, Niall,” she whispers, and he shakes his head as he lets go of her hand. Fiona has never felt so cold.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You should get back. Your ma is most likely searching for you.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“Niall…”

“Fiona. Go. I can’t do this right now. Please. Just go back to your fiance and have a nice, happy life with him. Give your parents grandchildren to spoil.”

He won’t change his mind. Fiona really should have known he’d be as stubborn as ever. She rises to her feet and smooths out the front of her coat. Niall keeps his gaze on the ground, and her breath catches in her throat.

“It was you, ya know. Always you. We just… Niall, we didn’t have the time. Summers don’t last forever.”

“We could have made it work, Fee.”

“No, love, we couldn’t have. And you damn well know it. You would have found someone in Mullingar to love, and I might have found someone in Phoenix. So I made the decision to not try.” She sighs and runs her fingers through his damp hair. He shivers at the touch. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot that you did. But maybe you’re right.”

“About what?”

“Phil might never make me nervous when he walks in a room, and I may never love him as much as I’ve always loved you. I’ll marry him anyway, because that’s what Ma and Da need from me. I hope you find someone to love, really love.”

She sniffs back a fresh round of tears when Niall shifts away from her. Her fingers brush along the curve of his ear, the side of his cheek, then she turns away. She forces herself not to look back. She couldn’t handle the sight of his defeat, the slump of his shoulders, or the way they broke each other’s hearts without trying.

The streets are quiet as she wanders back to the pub. The Lucky Green is the complete opposite of what Ginevra Walsh would ever choose. It’s practically a dump compared to her usual haunts. Only the best for her, president of her own consultant firm. Fiona wonders why she continues to go along with her mother’s plans.

First, it was getting a low-paying job in the firm—filing papers, fetching coffees, running errands. Then it was promotion after promotion. Now, it’s Phil. What’s next, besides the obvious bouncing baby boy?

Her mother’s plans only brought her the loss of her best friend.

“How _dare_ you?” her mother all but snarls when Fiona walks in through the door. The fact Ginevra can keep a gentle smile on her face while fuming used to amuse Fiona. “Do you know how embarrassing it is for your daughter to kiss a man who isn’t her fiance, in front of the entire family?”

“I didn’t kiss him, Ma. He kissed me. And you don’t have to worry. Niall won’t come around again. Phil and I are still getting married.”

Ginevra’s pale eyes track over her daughter’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Ma. I’m utterly delirious with joy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to talk to Uncle Colm.”

Fiona walks away before her mother can answer. Colm welcomes her as she slides into the booth beside him, Aunt Irene sat on the opposite bench. Fiona leans heavily into her uncle’s side and closes her eyes.

“That was quite a show, pet.”

Fiona shrugs at his words. “He had too much to drink. He mistook our friendship for love. It won’t happen again.”

“Darling, that wasn’t a drunken kiss,” Irene says softly. “That was the kiss of a man in love.”

“He only thinks he loves me because we’ve known each other so long. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Fiona mumbles as she accepts the drink Nolan gives her.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it.”

Colm wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her forehead. Fiona draws in a steadying breath before glancing up. Maura is watching her closely, something unreadable on her face, and Bobby speaks into her ear. Fiona swallows, cheeks warming. It’s just her luck that Niall’s parents witnessed her being made a fool.

Uncle James locks the pub’s doors behind the family, and Fiona pauses at the back of the group. Maya and Phil exchange a look before shifting closer together. Their bodies block Fiona from sight of the others. She whispers a quick thank you before hurrying away.

The house is dark except for the square of light on the ground floor. The living room. Someone is still awake. Fiona stands at the gate, gloved fingers wrapping around the metal. Fat snowflakes begin falling with her tears. So many days were spent here. Video games and long talks, decorating the walls with glow-in-the-dark stars.

She remembers when Niall fell off the ladder and fractured his arm. How terrified she’d been. How he tried laughing it off even while crying with pain. She hadn’t left his side during the hospital visit or the two days following the accident.

The gauzy curtains shift, a strip of golden-orange light quivering. She gasps in a breath when the front door opens. Niall hurries toward her, pulling on his coat along the way.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just... I wanted to remember how it used to be. When things weren’t so messed up between us.”

“You’re marrying him, aren’t you.” It isn’t a question. They both know the answer. Niall huffs out a sharp laugh. “And I can’t change your fucking mind.”

“Please, Niall. If you ever loved me, don’t make this harder.”

She finally meets his eye, and the anguish on his face breaks her heart further. His fingers clench the front of her coat, tug her forward. This time, she kisses him back. Just as desperately, just as longingly. Wishing things could be different.

The gate presses into her belly, sends a shock of pain through her torso, but Fiona ignores it in favour of chasing the whisky on his tongue. It’s always been an unachievable dream, and she’d punched him for trying fourteen years ago. Yet here she is doing exactly that. A quiet whimper breaks through the silent night when he pulls back just enough to speak.

“Please don’t marry him,” he pleads, his lips brushing hers with each word.

“I don’t want to,” she admits. “God, Niall, I really don’t want to.”

“Then don’t. Come back to Ireland with me.”

“We both know that isn’t an option.”

His hand comes up to cradle her cheek; he rests his forehead against hers and exhales. “Tell me you will, and I’ll hide you in my luggage. We’ll be gone before anyone finds out.”

“I don’t think I’ll fit,” she whispers with a watery giggle.

He kisses her again. Tears freeze on her icy cheeks as snowflakes dance along her skin. As cold as it is, she feels none of it in the circle of his arms. The warmth of his breath, the love they have found but can never have.

“Stay with me. I love you, Fee. Isn’t that enough?”

“I love you, too.”

“But you won’t stay.”

She steps back, swiping at her cheek with a hand. “I think I’ve cheated on Phil enough.” Sniffling, she blinks snow and tears away. “See ya ’round, Niall.”

Fiona turns and leaves Niall behind, stood at the gate to his aunt’s house. Each step she takes dredges up a heaviness in her chest. She can’t turn around now. If she does, she will give in. Phil deserves to hear the truth.

“Fiona Roisin, where have you been?”

“Gin, leave her alone. Sit down, mo stoirín, you look frozen.”

Fiona drapes her coat and gloves over the arm of the couch, ignoring her parents. Phil meets her gaze. Amazing man that he is, he can read the question in her eyes. He nods and settles back in his seat. She draws in a steadying breath, steels her spine, and faces Ginevra.

“I’m not marrying Phil. I don’t love him as more than a friend, and he certainly doesn’t love me like that, either. We never will. So… the engagement is off. Phil, I truly hope there are no hard feelings.”

Phil snorts before composing himself as he stands. “The only thing I’m upset about is that we went along with this crazy plan in the first place. Ginevra, Colin, I’m sorry we’re doing this now, especially so close to Finn’s passing. However, it’s better than too late.”

“What about the merger?” asks Ginevra, ever the scrupulous one. The one who tries to see every possible tangent a plan can take. Of course she would see the companies falling through.

“My father will still move forward with the merger, never worry. But I refuse to be your daughter’s husband. If you’ll excuse me, I need to inform my parents and then go be with my girlfriend.” He turns to Fiona, cupping her cheeks with warm hands. “You are an amazing friend, Fiona. Thank you for bringing me to Jessie. I hope Niall makes you happier than you’ve ever been.”

Fiona closes her eyes at the gentle pressure to her forehead, smiling to herself. She doesn’t have to look to slide the engagement ring from her finger. He takes it with a soft chuckle. A rustle of vinyl lining, buttons snapping together, then the door clicks. She sighs before meeting her father’s eyes.

“Also, I’m exercising my right of dual citizenship and moving to Ireland.”

“Darling…” Ginevra drops to sit in the plush armchair. Her black suit is darker with the ivory fabric. “You said Niall wasn’t a risk.”

“I want to be happy, Ma. I want to get married because I love my husband more than I love myself. I want what you and Da have, not power or money. I want _love_. Why would it ever be okay for me to not love my husband?”

Ginevra opens her mouth to speak, though no words come. Finally, she clears her throat daintily. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. It’s just… You and Phil got on so well, and we thought maybe you’d grow to love him. He was good to you, right? He treated you like a princess.”

Fiona crosses the room to sit in the chair across from her mother. She wraps her fingers around Ginevra’s soft, slender hands. Colin watches her closely, but his lined face holds no judgement. No one speaks for a moment, then Fiona huffs out a laugh.

“Ma, I appreciate all that you’ve done for me. You’ve only ever had my best interests at heart, even if you went about them the wrong way. You wanted me to do well in life and prosper. And perhaps, I may have loved Phil at some point in our lives. It would never have been enough.”

“Are you sure?” Colin asks, and Fiona doesn’t hesitate to nod.

“More sure than I am about December in Boston being the worst.”

“I don’t approve how this has come about or how the both of you embarrassed me so horribly,” Ginevra starts before letting out a slow exhale. “I suppose I can’t stop you. Just please be safe, darling. You’re my baby, and I want you to really be happy. Wait. What did Phil mean, his ‘girlfriend’?”

Fiona laughs, shaking her head, as she squeezes her mother’s hands. “He’s been dating Jessie for the last year.”

“And you were okay with this?”

“’Okay with it’? Ma, it was _my_ idea.” Fiona stands and presses a kiss to Ginevra’s cheek, then does the same with her father. “Now if you don’t mind, I have someone I need to talk to.”

She tugs her coat back on and hurries from the room. Her mother’s voice—‘This isn’t how I expected this week to go’—is the last thing Fiona hears before the door closes. Her stomach twists itself into knots, heart thundering in her ribs. She can scarcely breathe as she rushes down the corridor to the lift.

Aoife answers the knock almost immediately. Fiona isn’t surprised. The gate’s squeaking was enough to wake the dead, and she’d almost looked over her shoulder to see if Great-Uncle Finn was behind her. Fiona steps into the older woman’s embrace.

“Hi, Aunt Aoife.”

“It’s so wonderful to see you.” Aoife ushers Fiona into the house. “How long has it been?”

Fiona toes off her heeled boots and hangs her coat on the rack. “Seven years. You look amazing.”

“You lie too well, lovey. Maura told me of the engagement. Congratulations.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Fiona pauses, deliberating whether to tell Niall’s aunt the truth. She decides not to; that’s a box she isn’t willing to unpack right now. “Uh, is Niall still here?”

“He disappeared into his old room about an hour ago.”

“Mind if I go pester him?”

“Why would I?” Aoife pushes Fiona toward the hallway with gentle yet insistent hands. “Maybe he’ll come out and visit with his family for once. Seeing you has always made him smile.”

Fiona breathes in a shaky breath—Aoife has no idea how much it hurts to hear those words. Instead of saying anything, Fiona hugs Aoife once more then makes her way to the door she’s gone through hundreds of times.

The walls are the same: Posters of athletes and musicians and half-naked women on cars. Photographs of their childhood. One is missing. She’s too far away to see which one has left the gaping hole in the snapshots. The bookshelves are still as empty as ever.

The only thing different about his bedroom is the man sat on the bed.

Niall has grown up, become a man instead of the boy she once knew and loved. Still loves. Fiona swallows thickly as she leans against the door frame and watches him stare at the snow swirling outside the window.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to take a ring off my finger.”

His head jerks around, eyes widening. “You...”

“We decided it was time to end the facade. Now Jessie can have him fully.”

“How angry is your ma?”

“I don’t think she was angry so much as blindsided. Once I explained I’d never love Phil the way he deserves, she accepted it.” Fiona shrugs awkwardly. “You’re gonna get a stern lecture about kissing me in front of everyone while I was engaged, though.”

“I don’t regret it.”

The husky rasp in his voice sends a shiver down her spine. He’s never spoken to her like this. Heat diffuses through her body, and it’s only the doorway that keeps her on her feet.

“I don’t regret it, either. Best kiss of my life. Well, the second one. The first one was a bit shocking.” She glances at the suitcase at the end of his bed and cocks her head. “Yeah, I definitely won’t fit in that. Guess I’ll just have to settle for a seat like a normal person instead of your stowaway.”

“Fiona, if you’re putting me on, I swear—”

“Got any room in your flat for me?” She scurries across the room to bounce on the mattress next to him. “Before you answer that, kiss me again.”

He laughs, loud and beautiful, even as he obeys. The whisky is gone, replaced by hot chocolate. Fiona dives headfirst into this feeling—this freedom to kiss him like she is, as if giving Phil back his ring has unchained her from a future of loneliness. Something fills her soul. A jagged piece she didn’t know was cutting her alive, smoothed out by the love she’s always had for Niall.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs as he pulls back. “We’ve not spent time together in nine years.”

Fiona frowns, running her finger across the divot between his furrowed brows. “Have you become a slob since then? Are you a horrible cook which means I’ll be the one feeding us all the time? Oh, my god. Niall James Horan, do you _snore_?”

“I really, really don’t know why I love you,” he grumbles before shifting upright.

Fiona flops to the side, resting her head on his thigh, and stares up at him. He was cute before—a girl would have to be blind not to notice, and notice she had—but now he’s absolutely beautiful. Everything about his appearance has changed. His eyes, though, had always captivated her. They haven’t changed.

They’re still as warm and expressive as ever.

She resists the urge to shiver as he traces his index across her cheekbone. “I’m... I’m pretty sure this is what I should do. I mean, if it doesn’t work out, I can always come back here and get my job back at Ma’s company. Or have _your_ ma take me in. She loves me.”

“She does. Almost more than she loves me.”

“No shite. I’m the good one of us.”

His head falls back to the window, gaze trained on the white flakes settling on the windowsill. She closes her eyes as she listens to his breathing. Steady, like he’s been since they were children running through the garden. When they’d spend hours lying in the damp grass and staring up at the springtime stars. When he would kiss her scraped knee and she would think he was her hero.

When they were thirteen and trying to figure how to maintain a friendship when everything was changing—namely their bodies. When she realised he could never possibly love her the way she wanted him to, so she locked those feelings away and found Levi.

When Niall was everything to her, and she didn’t have him for all the biggest moments of her life.

“I’m afraid I’ll wake up, and this will all be a dream.”

Fiona catches his fingers in hers, kisses his knuckles. “So do I. I didn’t expect you to show. We hadn’t talked in so long, and you hated Finn more than I did. I hoped, but I never thought it’d be reality.”

“I almost didn’t. Then I remembered I’d see you. Have to admit, wasn’t expecting you to have a fiancé.”

“Then you were at the cemetery. At the pub. Phil knew before I did this was how tonight would end. He was pretty desperate to push me onto you so he could get back to the one he actually loves.”

Niall doesn’t laugh like she wants him to. He frowns down at her. His eyes are the soft, bright blue she’s known her entire life. She blows out a breath and moves enough to get more comfortable.

“I always wondered what it would have been like to break up with Levi and be with you.”

“I wish you had,” he whispers.

“I’m glad I didn’t. We were—”

“Too young, I know.”

Fiona sits up to meet his gaze straight-on. “This was the easiest choice I could have ever made. We aren’t too young now. We’re both adults who have the wisdom we thought we did when we were two dumb fifteen-year-olds.”

“I’m selfish enough to admit I’m glad you chose me over him. What kind of name is _Phil_?”

“A very strong name. Don’t tease him.” Fiona pokes the tip of Niall’s nose. “He gave up a life of misery so you could be happy.”

Niall rolls his eyes before pulling her into his side. “So you’re really coming back to Ireland with me.”

“I really am. It’ll be nice to get home again.”

“C’mon, it’s late. We should sleep.”

“It isn’t that late, Horan. You just want me in your bed.”

“I mean, if it works, is it really so bad an excuse?” He chuckles, pressing warm lips to her forehead. “Do you want to?”

Fiona pretends to think, one finger hooked around her jaw. “You never answered whether you snore or not.”

“No, Fiona Roisin Walsh, I don’t snore.”

“Then I’d love to stay.”

She clambers off the bed and crosses the room to close the door. When she turns around, Niall has already removed his shirt. Fiona feels no shame in watching, though she wonders if she should. After all, they’re at a new step in their friendship—their _relationship_. But the jolt in her stomach tells her not to look away.

His slacks fall to the floor with a quiet rustle, and he walks to the chest of drawers. Fiona’s gaze tracks along his shoulders, the ripple of his muscles beneath skin. The dip at the base of his spine. The gentle curls against his neck. The way he’s grown to be everything she hoped to find. She swallows, moves to stand behind him. He pauses when her arms snake around his waist, then his hand is wrapping around her wrist.

“Thank you for choosing me.”

She brushes her lips along his shoulder blade, smiling into his skin. “As if there was actually any other choice.”

Fiona steps back so he can pull on a pair of basketball shorts. He laughs quietly and shakes his head when she asks for help with the zip of her dress. His fingers tremble as he carefully pulls the tab down, so slowly she wonders if he is as nervous as she is.

_Relax, it’s only Niall. You’ve known him since birth._

But in this moment, he isn’t ‘only Niall’. Right now, he is a whole universe personified. He’s the world she dared not to dream of.

Niall rests his forehead into the curve of her neck, and Fiona’s eyes flutter closed when he pushes her dress off her shoulders, down her arms, to puddle at her feet on the floor. Her body tightens at his touch—soft, gentle, afraid that he’ll open his eyes and realise she isn’t really here. She’s so terrified to realise he isn’t really here.

The bed is far too small to fit both of them comfortably, the byproduct of it being made for a teenager. One. Not two grown adults. Fiona bites back a smile as she recalls all the nights she crawled into this very bed to lie next to Niall, complaining about whatever her mother had done to annoy Fiona this time. He’d held her much like this and whispered plans for them to run away to Ireland.

“Your ma will tell mine we’re there, though.”

“Not if we ask her not to,” he’d replied easily. “Ma loves you.”

It was so simple back then. Childish dreams that never came to fruition but sustained them both anyway. All the hopes of a life well-lived and decades as the best of friends. Until death, she’d sworn, and his grin lit up the world when he vowed ‘and beyond’.

She curls into his side and closes her eyes. This is something she never would have gotten from Phil. He deserves the joy Jessie brings him, and Fiona deserves the completion Niall brings to her life. She can’t figure out why she ever thought Ginevra’s plan was a good one. Her ma may have wanted the best for Fiona, but Fiona should have been honest from the beginning.

Fiona’s heart races beneath her ribs. Her parents are on a flight back to Phoenix, but she’s going in the opposite direction. Bobby and Maura sit three rows up, and flight attendants close the overhead bins. A heavy weight rests on her shoulder, soft hair tickling her cheek.

“You fall asleep on me, and I’ll throw you out of this plane, Horan.”

“So rude. Let me sleep.”

“It’s your own damn fault you’re so tired. Shouldn’t have kept yourself up half the night.”

He pushes away from her and scowls; the light in his eyes betrays him. “If I remember correctly, you didn’t mind.”

She rolls her eyes but accepts the kiss. His chuckle echoes in her ears, in her blood. There is nothing tying her to the ground right now. All she knows is the pleasant, fuzzy heat in her soul. This feels right.

Fiona smiles to herself as she clings to Niall’s hand. As Boston disappears below them. As she heads home to where it all started twenty-six years ago.


End file.
